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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086924">All's Fair in Love and Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/evergreenstringbean/pseuds/evergreenstringbean'>evergreenstringbean</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Curt's an idiot, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Partner Parallels, Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel- 2016, but not stupid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:34:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28086924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/evergreenstringbean/pseuds/evergreenstringbean</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the final death of Owen Carvour, Agent Curt Mega is thrust into a mission that seems simple at first glance. Retrieve a fellow agent from a completed undercover mission. However, there are a few caveats.</p><p>For one, the "fellow agent" is a Slozhno.</p><p>For two, Curt is meant to retrieve the agent in 2016.</p><p>With the mix of following his mission, learning all about Tatiana's son, and grappling an entirely new world, Curt must leave every stipulation of his real present life behind to protect a potential future at stake.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Old Thoughts and New Assignments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  It was a truly ridiculous idea, and Curt knew that from the initial briefing.</p><p>  However, he didn’t have the room to ask too many questions. Mostly because he was on “thin fucking ice” with Cynthia after the whole World Peace Gala incident and had only just saved his job after his interaction with Owen earned some pity points in his favor. He’d been close to quitting- hell, he’d even gone to her office to put in his two weeks and leave it at that- but he was sure that if he was to do so he would receive the world’s harshest ass kicking imaginable. So, here he was, sat in a plastic chair that offered very little comfort for the bruises that were still healing  around his body as his boss flipped through a document with a blank expression.</p><p>  “Clearly, we wouldn’t put you on this case if we had any other option, given your recent series of fuck-ups. And with other Chimera compounds still under investigation, we can’t exactly allow you to take leave with your attachment to the mission and you total unwillingness to let shit go. Thankfully, this case just so happened to line up with our predicament,” Cynthia stated in her semi-professional monotoned voice, looking up to watch Curt squirming to get comfortable in his seat. Sighing, she slapped the file shut and pushed it his way. “But of course, you’ll find some way to completely fuck it up or get yourself killed.”</p><p>  Curt smirked, “It <em>is</em> a specialty.” He grabbed the folder and careful opened it to examine it’s contents:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <strong>Case File #736224</strong>
</p><p><strong>Agent(s):</strong> Agent Curt Mega</p><p><strong>Objective:</strong> Retrieve and remove subject from location.</p><p><strong>Notes:</strong> No restraint necessary. Only shoot to disarm. Rendezvous with Agent Jack Dunsten following removal of subject in enclosed location.</p><p><br/>  Seemed to be a standard plan. Swift, clean cut, and hopefully an easy in-and-out mission. Curt was almost surprised by the almost childlike means of this file. That is, until he turned the page to examine the subject information.</p><p>  <br/><strong>Subject:</strong> Agent Toby Slozhno</p><p><strong>DOB:</strong> 08-17-1980</p><p><strong>Height:</strong> 6’0</p><p><strong>Weight:</strong> 167lbs</p><p><strong>EC:</strong> Brown</p><p><strong>HC:</strong> Black</p><p><strong>Defining Marks:</strong> Subject has scar perpendicular to left eye, stretching from hairline to cheekbone, roughly half a centimeter in width.</p><p><br/>  “Uh, Cynthia? Don’t know if this is some kinda typo, but it looks like this guy will be born in like twenty years,” Curt commented with a scoff, the typo throwing him for a loop until he caught sight back to the name. “Wait- Slozhno, does that mean-”</p><p>  Cynthia rolled her eyes and lit another cigarette, pressing down on her pager. “Susan, call Ms. Larvernor to my office.” She took a deep breath off the stick of tobacco and set it down again with a sigh. “It’s Tatiana’s son, yeah. Look Mega, we’ve been dabbling with some pretty heavy shit over the last few years. Technology that would make your dumb little brain explode at the thought of. Barb in particular has been involved in a fair bit of it as of late.” The knock on the door had her leaning back in her seat. “Come in,” she called, watching the scientist timidly enter the room until he took sight of Curt and visibly relaxed. </p><p>  “Hello, Director Houston. You wanted to see me?” Barb asked, sounding professional despite flicking her eyes over to Curt every other syllable. Curt offered a wave, but dropped his hand as Cynthia spoke.</p><p>  “Yes. I believe Agent Mega is ready to start his mission. I’d like you to take him to Lab 12 to get him prepped.”</p><p>  Barb’s smile dimmed a bit, as did Curt’s suave demeanor. “Ma’am, if I may, are you sure he’s ready for-”</p><p>  “He’s had plenty of time to rest up.”</p><p>  “A week?” Curt asked snarkily, earning a glare from Cynthia. He cleared his throat and started again. “You didn’t answer me about the typo. This says the guy was born in 1980. And last time I checked, Tatiana doesn’t have a kid.”</p><p>  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “God, you’re so fucking stupid. I can’t believe you’re being trusted to handle this fucking case- it’s not a typo. You’re jumping time, Mega. Ms. Larvernor will get you filled in on the details.”</p><p>  Through the shock and awe of the concept of time travel, a plethora of thoughts filled Curt’s mind. He was getting to time travel, that was so awesome! However, there was one thought in particular that had him paralysed with wonder.</p><p>
  <em>  If he could go forward in time, surely he’d be able to go back. Back to a time the grief he had wasn’t doubled over. Hell, back to a time he had no grief at all. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Surely, it was possible, wasn’t it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>  Was it possible to save Owen? An, in turn, save himself?</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>  After a long-winded presentation that Curt only half listened to, he was introduced to a bulky machine containing a platform with various smaller devices pointed in its direction. To be honest, the sight of the tech made him a little nervous. “Has this thing been tested out before?”</p><p>  “Of course it has! We’re not amateurs. We’ve had several tests on rats and a chimp study came back with glowing results!” Barb replied proudly.</p><p>  “And how far did you send them ahead of time?”</p><p>  “A few days.”</p><p>  Curt turned to the blonde, giving her a look of <em>what the hell</em>. “A few days? Barb, you’re sending me half a century into the future, that’s a hell of a lot longer than a few days.”</p><p>  Barb turned her attention to a computer screen, typing a few things in as the machine began to whir. “You’ll be fine, Curt. Cynthia would’ve never approved the mission if we weren’t prepared. Especially not for something as simple as a retrieval mission.”</p><p>  Though he was tempted to tell Barb about the subject, Curt held his tongue. The thought of Tatiana’s son- Toby- made him wonder of all the things that were to have happened in the future. After all, why would they been sending 1961 Curt Mega to 2016 if 2016 Curt Mega was around to do it himself? The best reason he could come up with was his retirement, the other reason…not so hopeful. </p><p>  “I guess you’re right.” He straightened his suit jacket and grabbed the duffel bag on the table, complete with sets of clothes, weapons, gadgets, and all the documentation necessary to keep his cover while not displaying his true date of birth or evidence pertaining to it. He had his objective, he had his equipment, and finally, he had motivation he thought he’d never get again following Owen’s second burial. “I’m ready. Fire it up.”</p><p>  Barb nodded and pressed a button, instructing Curt to stand on the platform. “And remember, whenever your mission is complete, head to the location in your file and the agents you meet will instruct you back here.”</p><p>  With a quick nod of his head, another button was pressed and Curt was confronted by a sudden tingling sensation, before he lost consciousness entirely.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>  When Curt finally awoke, the first thing he took notice of was the noise. Everything was loud, the ambient noise of the city much brighter than he was used to. The next thing only caught him when he opened his eyes, the dizziness wearing off as he shakily stood from the concrete and took slow steps out of the alley he had somehow ended up in. However, nothing prepared him for the sight he took in once he reached the end of the dark alleyway. </p><p>  The buildings were shiny and adorned with big monitors, flashing lights that transitioned pictures promoting clothes, foods, and drinks. Groups of people roamed the sidewalks styled in a way that confused Curt while sleek cars passed on the road. It was such a stark difference to his world that Curt felt as though he were experiencing whiplash. After a moment to process, he shook his head and pulled an address from his pocket. He needed to focus, stay on task. </p><p>  Although, as Agent Curt Mega navigated the streets of 2016 Manhattan, he wondered if each step in the future could lead him closer to fixing the missteps he made in the past, and if that could perhaps change his very present.</p><p>  Oh, how he hoped like hell it could.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mission...Accomplished?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Curt meets Agent Toby Slozhno, and in turn Agent Jack Dunsten. He was not expecting to meet another Agent.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm bad at CWs and TWs, so please let me know if I need to tag anything in the comments!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> Curt was surprised at the accommodations he’d been given for this mission. Once he’d finally gotten to where he needed to be- which took a while, navigation was surprisingly harder in the future and his attempts to ask for help were met with odd glances and being completely ignored as people stared into weird devices. Curt decided not to dwell on it for too long. With any luck, he’d been done by the next day and back to his easier time before he knew it- he’d arrived at a fine, he assumed high star hotel. He chose to ignore the questions of how his reservation had been booked or how the concierge was so eager for his arrival. The day had already been so damn weird that every small detail that made no sense to him was no longer worthy of his deduction. </p><p> Going over the file yet again once he was situated in his room and took a way too thorough examination of the items in it, Curt wondered if he could ask Toby any questions about the future. After all, if he was Tatiana’s son, surely he’d have some inkling of knowledge about what had happened to Curt over the years. Maybe he actually went into retirement, finally found some peace and settled down with someone.</p><p> He shut that idea down right away, images of a staircase and a shocked face and cold metal that fell from his trembling hand invading his mind. There’s no way he could settle down. What a foolish thought to have. He’d lost his chance at that long ago. He’d been so damn lucky to find someone he loved as deeply as he did Owen, and that ended in the worst way possible. But then it wasn’t over, and any semblance of love he had was hidden behind the hate he formed for the man Owen had become. He was no longer the Owen Carvour that yelled at Curt when he did something incredibly stupid, or had his back on missions…or shared stolen kisses in the shadows. He was an empty, broken man, and the only thing Curt saw as he pulled the trigger was pure, unfiltered hate in Owen’s eyes.</p><p> Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to stop thinking before tears filled his eyes, and the sight of a mini bar before him was a blessing upon itself. Tomorrow, his mission would begin and end. Tonight, he would spend one more night mourning for a man who’d been long dead.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> He was delighted to find that he could at least take a taxi to his mission’s destination. After researching other methods of transportation on the pamphlets provided to him by the hotel, he felt entirely too out of his element to even attempt the subway or whatever the hell an Uber was. Dressed to the nines in a tuxedo from his duffel bag, Curt allowed himself to slip into his agent mindset, the objective running wildly through his head with several scenarios playing out in sporadic detail. </p><p> The agent was so wrapped up in his own mind that he didn’t even notice with the cab came to a stop, the driver catching his attention with a grumble of, “You gonna get out or what?”</p><p> Curt smiled and offered a half-hearted apology, trying not to bring attention to himself as he stepped out of the car and walked towards the building ahead. This gala was on par with the one he’d attended not even a week before. Well, a week before in his time. About fifty-five years now. Thoughts like these made his head spin. </p><p> Thankfully, he had no currently time to think too hard. He had people to mingle with, a man to find, and- even better- trays of champagne flutes to ease the modern confusion he had.</p><p> A glass and a half later, and after several improvised conversations in which he flubbed questions that he didn’t understand, Curt caught sight of a man laughing across the room, dressed similarly in a tuxedo chatting absentmindedly with a woman. As he turned his head, a scar along his temple was clear as day. This was it. Time for Curt to go.</p><p> He easily made his way through the small pockets of people talking what he only assumed to be politics- what a strange time to be alive, he thought- and stepped up to the couple mid-conversation.</p><p> “Well, you must send us you and Austin’s wedding registry when you’ve got it together. We’ll be sure to send you something lovely.”</p><p> “Of course. Thank you, Michael,” the woman replied with a smile, to which the man next to her grinned in response.</p><p>
  <em> Ah, that’s right. He’s undercover. Michael Penshaw is his alias.</em>
</p><p> “What a generous guy, huh?” Curt said smoothly, his tactics on entering conversations still rocky after the four years he spent barely seeing anyone at all. The woman didn’t seem to notice, merely smiling and nodding in response as Toby looked at Curt with an expression one could only view as shock.</p><p> However, that look maybe lasted half a second before his skills took over the situation. “It’s been a while! Good to see you! Thought you wouldn’t be able to make it,” He stuck out his hand, and Curt swore his hand was trembling as he shook it.</p><p> “Ah well, traffic’s hell as always. And flagging down a cab-”</p><p> “I completely understand,” Toby hummed. He set his glass on the nearby table. “Where are my manners? Sarah, this is an old friend of mine, Curtis. Curtis, this is Sarah Golding, we both assist Mr. Newman. I hate to cut the introductions short, but I’ve got a few people to introduce him to. Save me a dance though, alright?” </p><p> Sarah picked up a fresh glass of champagne and, with a swift goodbye and a kiss to Toby’s cheek, disappeared into the crowd for another group to join. After a beat of silence, Curt saw the man next to him sigh and plaster a fake smile, clear acting as he guided Curt to the side of the room with a hallway stretching to the exit. The second they made it to the back exit, he dropped his grin and yanked out his gun, aiming at Curt with a look of panic. “Who the hell sent you? How are you here? Why? Give me answers, copycat!”</p><p> Confused and stunned, Curt didn’t dare pull out his on weapon in fear of being shot without clear explanation. “Wh- Geez, what the hell?! I was assigned to remove you from the gala! I didn’t get catapulted half a decade to be gunned down by the guy I’m supposed to protect! I think this means I clearly have seniority, so put your gun down and we’ll get this over with.”</p><p> Toby eyed Curt warily, gun slowly lowering. “…Where’d you meet Owen?”</p><p> The question shocked Curt more than the gun in his face had. “What?”</p><p> “Owen Carvour. Where’d you meet him? The real meeting, not according to MI6’s records. The real Curt Mega would know.”</p><p> Curt took a breath, his heart wrenching as he recounted his first interaction with the british agent. “…Manchester. I was in town for a side mission, a quick in-and-out operation. O- Agent Carvour was undercover. He saved my ass from enemy operatives also undercover. MI6 decided not to include his interaction on record so they would send us on doubles missions without the illusion of an intentional partnership prior to official missions. They wanted it to seem it was the idea of them and the American Secret Service to put us on missions together. Now, is that what you wanted?” To be honest, the recollection of their first meeting made Curt’s throat hurt. They’d worked well together that first time, only making time for real introductions after the situation was handled and they weren’t close to death. It was amazing how well they immediately worked together, a dynamic that lasted them through several official missions together.</p><p> Toby seemed to look pleased by this answer, tucking his gun back into his waistband and flipping his suit jacket forward to conceal it. “Sorry about that. The world we live in is…different, to say the least. We run into copycats of people claiming to have time jumped, but have no knowledge of memories to back it up. The only thing they know is what’s on files.”</p><p> “So, how’d you know I was telling the truth?” Curt asked, shoving all memories of Owen to the side. He was on a mission. He had to focus. The fellow agent grinned and looked through the window of the door they’d left, making sure they weren’t being followed before walking with Curt down the alley to the street ahead. </p><p> “I’ve heard the real story once or twice,” he answered quietly. </p><p> “From your mother?”</p><p> Toby paused, nodding in a shaky way that had Curt doubting his response. “So, where are we heading?”</p><p> The older agent reached into his pocket at the question and read a slip of paper with their rendezvous point. “To deliver you to Agent Dunsten.” He noticed the way Toby broke into a grin, hailing a cab with relative ease. “Is he your partner?”</p><p> Nodding, Toby walked to the other side of the car and slipped into the backseat next to Curt. “Since the academy.”</p><p> “Good for you. Rare to see partners last through training like that.”</p><p> Luckily for Curt, that was a good place for the two of them to end the conversation, allowing him to finally dwell in the narrow reflections of his and Owen’s first encounter. He’d neglected to mention how the two had gone out for a drink that night, and the way Owen’s hand rested just a bit too long on Curt’s shoulder to be friendly, or the subtle glances between sips of whiskey that progressively grew less subtle. That had been the start of it, but definitely not the end. </p><p> No, the real end left a far more sour taste in Curt’s mouth than the whiskey ever did.</p><p> “You zone out a lot, huh?” He heard Toby comment, only to realize the car had stopped and the man was talking to him through the open window while standing outside. Curt cleared his throat and followed suit, ignoring the comment made about his unfocused conscience and leading Toby to the door of the warehouse they’d arrived at with his gun now pulled from its concealment. The second the door was closed, Toby walked ahead of Curt towards the next door, completely disregarding the agent’s muffled comments to get behind him.</p><p> “Your tactics are shit, Dunsten. I can see you from a mile away,” Toby shouted across the room, still ignoring how Curt was frantically searching for anyone who could be a threat. The sound of a sigh was followed by a man stepping out of the shadows. Despite the grin he wore on his face, his arms were crossed and his eyebrows were scrunched as though he were trying to appear irritated.</p><p> “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle a bitch.”</p><p> “That is…not at <em>all</em> the saying.” Toby replied, holding back a chuckle before the two turned back to Curt.</p><p> The agent let his arms fall by his sides, expression changing to a similar look as Toby’s back at the gala. “Wait- is that-”</p><p> “Jack.” The tone of Toby’s voice was a drastic difference to his typical cadence Curt had been hearing the last hour. “Don’t.” He cough and turned his full attention back to his handler. “Agent Mega, meet Agent Jack Dunsten. Agent Dunsten, meet Agent Curt Mega.”</p><p> Curt offered a hand, attempting a professional demeanor even if the one shaking his hand appeared more starry-eyed.</p><p> “Can I just say sir, it is an honor to actually meet you in person- not like I thought I ever would, I mean in another world perhaps but- ow!” Jack groaned, rubbing his side where Toby had elbowed him.</p><p> “You’re rambling.” Sighing, Toby lifted his sleeve to check his watch, tapping it a few time before a satisfying beep had him nodding. “Alright. We’ve got a transport back to the agency en route. Your mission is complete, I presume Agent Mega?”</p><p> Curt slowly nodded and pulled another paper from his back pocket. “Yes. I should be on my way back to…my time, I guess.” At the mentioned of going back, Curt noticed a hesitant step from Toby, though nothing in his expression showed a definitive emotion either way. </p><p> “Um…safe travels, okay?”</p><p> He was a little wary by the sentiment, but Curt nodded and bid the gentlemen adieu before turning away towards the door. He vaguely caught their muffled conversation, which only gave him more unanswered questions. </p><p> “Why didn’t you tell him?!”</p><p> “You heard Molly! Timelines are fickle things! I quite like things how they are!”</p><p> “But wouldn’t it be better if they-”</p><p> “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Dunsten.”</p><p> Curt was sure he’d never understand what they meant, but in just a short time he wouldn’t have to worry. He opened the door to the front entrance, ready to reach a payphone to call his contact in order to get back home.</p><p> He wasn’t sure which scared him more. The feeling of metal against his forehead or the face staring back at him.</p><p> “Hello, Curt.”</p><p> “…Owen?”</p><p> The man smirked, pushing the gun harder against Curt’s head. “They really wasted decades of government technology sending <em>you</em> here? For something as juvenile as a retrieval mission?! I had low thoughts of the A.S.S. before, but goodness, what a medley of incompetent hacks!”</p><p>  “Wh- How-?” Curt didn’t even get to finish his questioning before he felt himself fall forward, the pain of something blunt hitting the back of his head only registering right before he fell out cold.</p><p>  The last real thoughts he could get out before consciousness escaped him was if Owen’s appearance was a real opportunity or a copycat Toby had warned him of. And worse, if it was the former, would it even be worth it to seize the opportunity if Owen was just as gone as he’d been the day he truly died.</p><p>  And the real question of all, was how the fuck did Owen survive that horrifying moment on that staircase?</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Caught Up To Speed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Curt wakes up in an unfamiliar room with all-too-familiar people.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't draw this out too long my brain is bursting with ideas, so this'll probably be like ten chapters max.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  “Shouldn’t you just tell them?”</p><p>  Curt barely heard the words form as he slowly regained a sense of his surroundings, understanding with a shuffle that his hands were indeed bound together behind his back. Why did people have to be so predictable in their capture methods? He could get out of ropes easily. </p><p>  It wasn’t until he moved his wrists again when he realized the rope was not rope, but zip ties, and his heart sank.</p><p>  “I told you already Jack, if I do I’ll ruin all the timeline bullshit. I’d like to exist at some point down the line.”</p><p>  “God, you really sound like your mother with that sass.”</p><p>  Curt opened his eyes to see Toby pacing in front of him, diverting his gaze for a moment to take in the dimly lit room before returning to the agent and his partner, who was sat on top of the table, fiddling with his gun. Jack set his gun aside as Toby stopped to look at Curt, crossing his arms to maintain composure despite the way his eyes never quite met the man he was addressing. “It’s a gift.”</p><p>  “You don’t sound like her with that accent though,” Curt acknowledged, finally pointing out the clearly American accent of the man ahead of him. “Grow up in American schools?”</p><p>  Toby thought for a moment, simply muttering, “Something like that,” in an attempt to choose his words carefully as he turned away to lean forward on the table for a deep breath. Jack looked at his partner, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder and mumbling something inaudible to Curt in Toby’s ear. In the meantime, the agent took a second to examine the room closer.</p><p>  It was that moment he spotted Owen waking up next to him. </p><p>  In any other circumstance, he’d be quick to reminisce at the exact scenarios that mimicked this one. All the missions that resulted with them tied together while some random bad guy tried to get information out of them. And every time, without fail, they’d be out of their restraints in record time with the guy knocked out on the floor. It almost felt like child’s play. But now, as the man he used to call his partner awoke beside him with identical zip ties around his wrists, Curt felt nothing but heartache and anger.</p><p>  “Anyone care to let me know why I’m tied to a chair next to a traitor?”</p><p>  “Ha- that’s rich, coming from you,” Owen mumbled, blinking rapidly and taking in his surroundings. </p><p>  Toby and Jack turned to face the men, sharing a quick look before Jack gestured for the other to take over. “Thanks a lot,” Toby muttered sarcastically. He let out a long sigh and leaned back against the edge of the table, crossing his arms. “This definitely wasn’t the plan, but Agent Dunsten and I had to temporarily incapacitate you and bring you back to an A.S.S. facility. We managed to get you both in without anyone seeing, but it is imperative that we keep it that way…for several reasons.”</p><p>  Curt seemed to process the information at a quick rate, but Owen was quicker with his response. “What’s the meaning of the zip ties then?”</p><p>  “I knew the second you both were awake you’d try to kill each other, and we need you alive. The world has changed way more than you could ever imagine, and right now we can’t afford you two to be at each other’s throats. You both shouldn’t even be here.”</p><p>  The tied agents looked at Toby with matchings confusion, and for a brief moment they allowed a glance in each other’s direction. It flashed nostalgia for Curt and twisted his stomach in a way that made him nauseous. “What the hell do you mean by that?”</p><p>  Jack decided to take over in the moment, placing a hand on his partner’s shoulder and tapping him out. “We can’t go into too much detail because we’re still not entirely sure what will happen, but very simply…in the eyes of the American Secret Service and MI6, you hold a bad history. CHIMERA tangled your history together and tarnished both of your reputations. Toby’s spent the majority of his career trying to fix that.”</p><p>  “…What?” Owen’s voice was way off from the collected way he carried himself after his four years out of Curt’s life. This one word had so much uncertainty that it made the whole room uneasy just with one syllable.</p><p>  “The same technology that let Curt jump is also in the hands of CHIMERA, as you know already, Owen. But the way they handled the tech was more sinister than the American’s intentions. They found a way to use it to make copycats of people. Programmed to act the way a human would, but only fostering the information that is accessed through written files. They made a plan to send them forward, get information from future world leaders, and come back with a higher understanding of the world ahead of them. It allowed them to start planning way sooner than we had to counteract them. The last official CHIMERA facility was destroyed in the mid eighties, but they never truly went away. They operate in back alley markets and online facilities…and, um…” Toby trailed off as he thought through the best way to continue.</p><p>  “I really think you just need to tell them.” Jack’s voice was gentle but firm, and Toby’s eyes narrowed on him.</p><p>  Curt felt a tap on his wrist, then another. It was the signal he was all too familiar with. Owen had gotten out of the ties. But why was he signaling him? He hated him, and likewise with the other.</p><p>  Oh, how desperately Curt wanted to believe that.</p><p>  The two untied agents bickered quietly back and forth for a short time until Toby finally huffed and blurted, “You two were the ones to destroy CHIMERA.”</p><p>  This time, Curt and Owen’s identical looks lasted longer and it was clear they were both searching for some other hidden emotions in each other’s faces. But, there was only so many times they could ask Toby to explain himself, so they stared at the man in question and waited for him to speak again.</p><p>  “You both spent twenty years destroying compounds, stealing information, taking down entire facilities…all together. You’d almost reached the finish line. Just one last mission to destroy a warehouse near Belgium. The mission itself was a success…but you were both gunned down by CHIMERA security during your escape.” Toby swiftly shut his mouth. Curt thought he noticed a tremble, but anything that could even vaguely resemble emotion was locked up before he could fully analyze it.</p><p>  Owen, however, wasn’t having it. “I don’t believe you. Why would I ever betray CHIMERA? Their purpose is the ideal world we all need.” Curt rolled his eyes at that, the garbage delusions still infesting Owen’s brainwashed mind. </p><p>  “Now that story, I don’t know for sure. Ta- My mother never told me why.”</p><p>  “Who?”</p><p>  Curt sighed. “He’s Tatiana’s son, O.”</p><p>  “Don’t call me that,” Owen snapped, finally giving up the act and standing from the seat before pulling a gun from his left side and aiming it at Toby. “Here’s some advice, always check for multiple weapons. I would say you should’ve learned that from training, but I’ve come to realize that all you American agents are ridiculously dim witted.” </p><p>  Rather than react to the sight of the gun in his face, Toby shrugged and jumped to sit on the table. “Go ahead. Shoot me, but either way you’ve both missed your jump points. New regulation has us only opening platforms at specific points of time. Both of yours should’ve been four hours ago, but you never would’ve gotten through security. Two ex agents framed as rogue CHIMERA informants? One who have been dead for thirty years? They would take you both out in a heartbeat.” He watched as Owen’s gun dipped and nodded to Jack, who stood and tossed Toby his jacket from the rack near the door. “The way I see it, you both have two options. One, we let you go and let you either kill each other or get yourselves killed, an option that would actively ruined this timeline. Or two, you both stay here, stay out of trouble, and we’ll help you get home when we can get access to the next available jump point.”</p><p>  Curt squirmed with his own zip ties, no amount of training making him adequate in getting them off himself. Owen was usually the one to help him out after getting himself situated. “So if we’re fugitive or whatever, why was I sent on this mission in the first place?”</p><p>  “I don’t know. I suppose the chain of events that led to now wouldn’t be anticipated in the sixties, what with Owen being dead and all.”</p><p>  “I was assumed dead in Nineteen Fifty-Seven. Get your facts straight.”</p><p>  Toby looked to Owen with a raised brow, then back to Curt until it clicked and he buried his head in his hands. “Shit, you don’t know.”</p><p>  The vague response got on Owen’s nerves. “Don’t know what? Stop with the nonsense and cut to the chase!”</p><p>  “You were intercepted from CHIMERA following the World Peace Gala, correct? So you jumped two days after…Curt jumped a week after.”</p><p>  Frantic beeped synced between Toby and Jack’s watches, earning conflicted sighs from the two of them. “Look, we’ve got to go, Tobe. We’ll go over what we can when we get back,” Jack urged, tugging on his jacket. Toby acquiesced, but not before his eyes landed on Curt’s arms still behind him and moved to cut the ties.</p><p>  “We’ve got a meeting with our director to go over our recent mission. We’ll be back when we can…just try not to murder each other until then, alright? I know I just dumped a fuck ton of information on you, but it’s very important that you’re both still alive by the time I get back. More important than you know,” Toby stated, eyes flickering between Curt and Owen before slowly following Jack out into the hall.</p><p>  “That’s not what I meant when I said to tell them, and you know it.”</p><p>  Toby groaned. “What the hell am I supposed to say, Jack? I think ‘hey, maybe don’t kill each other’ is straightforward enough.”</p><p>  “More straightforward then-”</p><p>  “Stop. They don’t need to know anything more than the basics.”</p><p>  Jack frowned, and the two remained silent as they approached the door, where he reached out to take Toby’s hand in his own. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you.”</p><p>  “…Yeah.”</p><p>  The two men found their car with ease once they made it outside, Jack pulling out the keys from his pocket. “Well…you ready, Carvour?”</p><p>  Toby smiled. “As I’ll ever be, Dunsten.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Bombshell After Gunshot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Curt and Owen follow Jack and Toby, and all goes downhill from there.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  The semi-rhythmic tapping on the metal table was beginning to drive Owen insane.</p><p>  At first it had been tongue clicking, then humming, and bouncing his knee up and down, and every time Owen at shot daggers at Curt until he’d stopped, only to start up on another physical way to keep himself occupied. Now, the tapping was out of time and barely even considered more than mindlessly smacking the metal with his fingertips. </p><p>  “Curt, if you don’t stop I’ll break off a chair leg and stab you in the throat,” he warned, earning a raised brow from his ex-partner.</p><p>  “What? And end up stuck in the twenty-first century with absolutely nobody you know? It might suck to understand this, but I’m kinda all you got right now.” Curt was trying to keep calm, wanting so desperately to be civil while his mind fragmented in shards of wanting to kill Owen and wanting so badly to be in his arms again. He sighed and stopped the tapping, leaning back in his seat. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do, but you heard Toby. We just need to not kill each other until we can get back to our time. Now, that doesn’t mean you have to like me, but can you at least act sorta civil until then?” </p><p>  Owen stared him down, hands that were once running his hair back now clenched into fists. “Tell me what happened.”</p><p>  Curt gave him a puzzled look, which didn’t falter the other’s gaze one bit. “In between the gala and when you jumped. What happened? He said I was dead.” At the explanation, Curt’s calm appearance cracked, the memories flashing in rapid time and making him nauseous all over again. </p><p>  “I…you don’t-”</p><p>  “No, Curt, you don’t get to decide what you keep to yourself anymore. Your arrogance is infuriating. All the world’s secrets aren’t only accessed by Agent Curt Mega!”</p><p>  “No, they’re just accessed by the organization you idolize,” Curt shot back, slamming his hand onto the table and making a sound louder than he anticipated. The two sat in silence for a moment, until the sound of footsteps and muffled unrecognizable voices appeared just outside the door. </p><p>  The two agents quickly hid behind a file cabinet, with Owen reaching down to search a few of the drawers. Curt was about to snap at him that now was not the time to be snooping for his dumb little agency, until the man held up a gun for him to take. “We don’t have time. Try to knock out who you can, if what Toby said is true, we can’t afford to kill anyone here without risking messing something up.” The words floored the American, confused as to how Owen had switched from nearly killing him to…pairing up with him. Perhaps he’d decided to follow the acting civil plan. Either way, Curt nodded sharply and grabbed the weapon while Owen took another from a higher drawer.</p><p>  “How’d you know there were guns in there?” Curt whispered questioningly. </p><p>  Owen shrugged. “I didn’t. You Americans are just so boringly predictable, lo-” he cut himself off with a cough, old habits dying hard while Curt’s heart caught in his throat at the slip.</p><p>  The door clicked open and Owen easily peered out, signaling to Curt that there were two agents, armed, scanning the room. It was go time. In an instant, the duo had them unconscious on the floor. They were unable to hold back a shared smile, all the memories of the thousands of times they’d done the same thing flowing faster than they could remember it wouldn’t last. They decided not to stick around to see if there would be more looking for them and slipped out of the door in search for an exit. </p><p>  It was shockingly easy to get out of the facility, something that may have surprise Curt, but definitely not Owen, though nothing about the Secret Service’s incompetence really shocked him anyway. They were out of the building and traveling through the warm night air in a matter of minutes, with seemingly no clear direction in sight. </p><p>  “So…where do we go now? How do we get in contact with Agent Slozhno and Dunsten?” Curt asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.</p><p>  Owen, however, wasn’t listening, jogging up to a random car and popping open the front door with a shake of his head. “Idiots. Don’t even lock their cars but trusted with sensitive information.”</p><p>  “Hey, what are you doing?”</p><p>  “What does it look like? We’re going to catch up to them.”</p><p>  Curt let out a unintelligible squawk, hopping into the car regardless. “Are you nuts? They’re off talking to their director! The one place we literally cannot go right now!”</p><p>  Owen rolled his eyes and dipped down under the steering wheel to get to work hotwiring the car. “I can’t believe you’re actually this stupid, Mega. They were obviously lying. They’re on a mission to grab intel from a CHIMERA associate.”</p><p>  “Wait- how do you know that?” </p><p>  “Context clues, reading their expressions…and I managed to catch Jack’s oddly loud phone call with their director prior to you and Toby’s arrival.”</p><p>  Curt paused, hearing Owen’s explanation and blurting new questions that peaked. “That reminds me, why were you at the warehouse to begin with? Is it why you jumped in the first place?”</p><p>  Owen’s hands froze from where he’d been cutting wires with a knife he’d pulled from his shoe- Curt wondered just how many weapons he had stashed on him at all times- and turned to look at his counterpart. “Curt, let me just say this <em>right now</em>. We’re working together just this one time. We are not friends. I truly hate you with the core of my being. And I will never, <em>never</em>, trust you with my secrets again. Understood?”</p><p>  The answer sent a shiver down Curt’s spine and a sharp pain in his heart, but he nodded nonetheless. The pair were quiet until the engine came to life, a satisfied grin covered Owen’s face as he shifted into drive. “Alright, let’s get a move on.”</p><p>
  <strong>~*~</strong>
</p><p>  To the delight of Owen and the uneasiness of Curt, the former knew the exact location of the other pair, partially from the eavesdropped conversation and his experience in CHIMERA. He was thankful not too much had changed about the organization’s onshore locations. The ones that were so small and inconspicuous that nobody even paid attention to their existence. It seemed like the versions of Curt and Owen that Toby was familiar with had completely glossed them over. Perhaps they were just focused on the bigger picture until they only had the small canvases to handle. And they never got that far…</p><p>  Curt shoved thought of the future…or, past- it was so hard to keep track- out of his mind as the current pair stepped out of the now parked car and scanned the building. It was decently sized, with no windows, a sign that basically screamed “Bad Guys Work Here” in Curt’s mind. “Okay, so what’s the plan here, O?”</p><p>  “I told you not to call me that, Mega.”</p><p>  “…Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes darting everywhere but Owen’s direction.</p><p>  Owen cleared his throat, pulling his gun from his waistband. “I say we try to find a way in through the back. Typically, there’s a bathroom window that’s standard in case of emergencies…” he trailed off of his sentence the closer they got to the back of the building, where there was indeed a window just out of their reach.</p><p>  “Damn…stirrups?” Curt suggested.</p><p>  “Stirrups,” the other confirmed, bending down to cup his hands so Curt could step. He hoisted the agent up to the level of the window, where he pulled out a few rusty screws and popped the frame off without a problem. He grabbed the edge of the window and pulled himself through, letting out a deep breath once he’d made it into the dingy bathroom. He quickly turned to stick his head out as well as his arms, reaching to grab Owen’s hand and help him up as well. “Don’t let me fall again, old man.”</p><p>  The halfhearted joke fell flat, the light leaving Curt’s eyes as images of Owen dropping off a staircase flashed over the real sight of Owen looking almost concerned by the reaction. “Hey…you with me?” he asked softly, Curt shaking the memories from his head and finally getting him through the window.</p><p>  “Y-Yeah. Sorry, just…”</p><p>  “Curt, I-” They both started to speak at the same time, pausing with identical sighs until a shuffling outside of the door stole their attention. The two pulled their guns back out, slowly making their way out of the bathroom and down another horribly lit hallway. Men littered the floor, clearly knocked out by the skills of trained agents. </p><p>  They were going the right way. </p><p>  Owen took the lead while Curt watched his back and kept his attention on anyone who might wake up at any moment. They arrived at a few sets of doors, where Owen took them down to the sound of popping. They halted at the front of the door when Owen held up a hand, looking around until he rounded a corner with Curt in tow and spotted another door leading to the room. “This way,” he whispered, slowly turning the knob and sneaking into the room. The two men immediately noticed how large the room was, surrounded by tech and large filing cabinet. Another noticeable factor was the bodies with gunshots scattered haphazardly about, and the agents they’d been looking for were staring at computer screens.</p><p>  The british ex-agent opened his mouth to speak, but Curt’s sharp eye caught someone on the other side of the room, pulling Owen out of sight with him behind a unrecognizable machine. Owen was about to ask what he was doing, but a voice cut through the room, echoing from the size of it.</p><p>  “We were wondering how long it’d take for you to figure out how to get here.”</p><p>  Curt and Owen managed to peer over the edge of the machine, watching as Toby and Jack immediately diverted from typing at computers to holding their guns at the man in the corner. “I knew you were on to me. Don’t act so slick, Lautley.”</p><p>  The man- Lautley, apparently- shrugged smoothly and took steps forward despite the agents aiming their guns a little higher. “You know, I would say that your pretentious nature is surprising, but it’s honestly refreshing. It’s something that CHIMERA could use to our advantage. We could use people like the two of you on our side.”</p><p>  “I’d rather break every bone in my body than join an organization that destroys millions of lives.”</p><p>  Lautley huffed, but his suave nature never faltered. “It’s evident that your stubbornness is the fault of your parents, seeing as they prioritized their job over you.”</p><p>  Toby straightened sharply, clearly irked by the statement. “My parents did everything in their power to protect me <em>and</em> the world we live in!”</p><p>  “And where did that lead?” The silence was deafening, and Curt was thinking heavily on that statement. The pieces weren’t adding up…what happened to Tatiana? “Listen, we’re adults. We should be able to have a civilized conversation. Shouldn’t we, Agent Carvour?”</p><p>  Owen froze, worried beyond belief that their hiding place had been discovered. That is, until-</p><p>  “Whatever you say won’t change anything. You can’t get away with this plan! What you think of the end result will be a thousand times worse!” Toby responded, and Owen and Curt pulled their head back behind the machine to look at each other.</p><p> <em> “You two were the ones to destroy CHIMERA.”</em><br/>
<br/>
<em>   “I told you already Jack, if I do I’ll ruin all the timeline bullshit. I’d like to exist at some point down the line.”</em></p><p>
  <em>  “It’s very important that you’re both still alive by the time I get back. More important than you know.”</em>
</p><p>  Suddenly, everything clicked in Curt’s head, and he had to grab the closest thing within reach to keep the dizziness from taking over. However, that just so happened to be Owen’s arm, who initially tried shrugging it off out of reflex before noticing the uneasy look on Curt’s face. “What?” Owen mouthed the question to him, but Curt quickly shook his head and stuck his head back out to watch. They didn’t have time to talk right now, but if the pieces finally synced the way he thought, they definitely needed to find the time.</p><p>  “I was afraid you’d say that. Fortunately for you, we need you alive for just a few more days. Unfortunately for you, we can’t let you get away. So-” Lautley lifted his gun, and in an instant two men jumped from their hiding place and took aim before firing, catching the gun with one bullet and the man’s shoulder with the other. He loud out a painful shout and fell back, getting back to his feet and…grinning? “Oh, Agent Carvour, what a treat for you, huh?” he asked Toby, looking at Curt and Owen as they stepped forward with their guns still raised. “Correct me if I’m wrong but you haven’t seen them since you were…five?”</p><p>  Toby’s jaw tightened, and if the two weren’t currently trained on a target, they’d been looking right to him for answers. “Stop,” he growled, voice low and threatening in a way that would scare any civilian within a mile radius. </p><p>  “Oh, they don’t know, do they? How difficult that must be, for your parents to not even recognize you.” The words were dripping with a patronizing tone. </p><p>  “Don’t!” Toby yelled, fighting back tears. Agents don’t cry. Not on a job, of all places.</p><p>  Lautley laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll leave it to you. This was nice. It was great to see you again. And very nice to meet you two as well. Never thought I’d see the day,” he said, acknowledging Curt and Owen as he quickly tapped his watch and heading towards the exit. Just as Curt was about to take the shot, doors burst open with a dozen or so men entering the room. </p><p>  “You two take that side!” Toby shouted towards the men as he gestured in their direction and immediately took cover with Jack behind a filing container. Owen pulled Curt to safety under a desk, the too barely sharing a nod before falling back into their old rhythms, alternating shots and telling each other of the next shooter’s location so the next shot was spot on. After a moment, Curt looked over to take in Toby and Jack, their style oddly similar to their own. Now that Curt saw him in new light, Toby looked familiar now. But he didn’t look like Owen. </p><p>  He looked like Curt.</p><p>  He obviously had similarities to Tatiana, with her paler skin tone and nose shape, but his eyes and hair match Curt’s almost identically, and his facial features were easily recognizable. But that was absolutely impossible. That man had called him Agent Carvour. Was he Owen’s son? That man had called <em>both</em> of them his parents. Curt’s head hurt. It was hard to think with all the attempted murder happening around him.</p><p>  Eventually, the noise died down into nothing apart from Curt’s ears ringing like crazy. The pairs both stepped out of their hiding spots, examining the damaged they’d made. After a beat of silence, Toby began to pace. Now, <em>that</em> was an Owen thing.</p><p>  “What the hell are you two doing here?!” he whisper shouted, not wanting to draw extra attention in case others were still present. </p><p>  “You left us in a facility with people who think we’re copycats. What did you expect to happen?” Owen asked in return.</p><p>  Jack shook his head. “I think he means how did you get here?” </p><p>  “Well, you weren’t exactly quiet in the warehouse, and I’ll leave it at that.”</p><p>  The creak of a door and the sound of an immediate gunshot was all the four needed to draw their weapons. Four bullets hit the target, who fell to the ground. Curt let out a sigh. “Alright, before anything else, we’ve got to get- whoa, whoa, whoa, hey!” He jumped forward as Toby slumped to the ground, gripping his side. “Shit!”</p><p>  Jack grabbed his partner before he fell entirely, helping him down as he pushed the hand out of the way to examine the way his white shirt bloomed with blood. “Damn it, Tobe, why does it always have to be you?” he asked calmly, though the others could tell he was silently panicking.</p><p>  “Y-You’re just lucky,” he coughed out, groaning at the pain until the adrenaline took over. “We’ve gotta get out of here, Jack.”</p><p>  “All your options involve us potentially getting killed. Where do you suggest we go?” Owen piped up, voice wavering with uncertainty that yet again pierced the room.</p><p>  Toby grimaced, struggling to stand with Jack’s help. “I’ve got a safehouse. We can go there to patch up and regroup. But, for now, let’s just get the hell out of this death trap.”</p><p>  Deciding to not waste anymore time, the four found their way towards the exit- Jack helping Toby limp while Curt and Owen covered them- and made their way to the former pair’s car, completely abandoning the hijacked car the latter had taken. Once Jack had patched his partner up in the backseat, they finally made their way in the direction of the safehouse.  It would be a while until they reached their destination, giving Curt the perfect amount of time to dwell over the plethora of questions he wanted to ask but couldn’t pluck up the courage to do so. It didn’t seem like the right time, anyway.</p><p>  With Jack driving, Toby in the passenger seat, and Curt and Owen sitting on opposite side of the backseat, the car was deathly silent with all the words that dared not be exchanged. All the things everyone wanted to say, all the information that needed to be confirmed, all of it lay thick in the air and bring them all to the verge of choking. </p><p>  Curt felt a hand touch his- feather light and barely noticeable- and looked over to see Owen staring out the window. His hand moved a little closer, and Curt almost pulled back until he saw how dark the car was and decided nobody would be able to see. However, he was worried how the other would react if he moved his hand at all. He eventually took his chance and rested his hand on top of Owen’s, gripping it gently but firmly, almost afraid he’d let go.</p><p>  <em>I miss you.</em></p><p>  Those were the words he wanted to say most of all, but he needed to get a grip and he knew it. This was only until they could get back, and then he’d return to his own time, where Owen was dead and gone CHIMERA was still prevalent and nothing was good to him anymore. A world where Curt was still utterly alone.</p><p>  Still, maybe that just meant he needed to spent this time to its full potential while he could. This was the only time he could say all the things he never said.</p><p>  He swore to himself, as Jack took a particularly sharp turn and Owen squeezed his hand, that he would not dare waste this chance.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THIS ENDED UP SO FUCKING LONG HOLY SHIT</p><p>We're like halfway through now so maybe this is gonna be shorter than I thought.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Complex, Fickle Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>At the safehouse, Curt and Owen finally get answers. Too many answers.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>  It was Curt’s safehouse.</p><p>  Well, it was technically his mother’s, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be there when he walked through the door. That thought made his heart sink. He wondered about her, if she had been around to be informed that her only son had been killed. It all hurt to think about. It made him want to reach out to take Owen’s hand.</p><p>  The ex-agent had dropped Curt’s hand after they’d gotten out of the car, and hadn’t so much as glanced in his direction for the rest of the commute to the house. The mixed signals he was being sent were frustrating and confusing Curt beyond belief. Did Owen hate him or not? It’d be nice to at least get on the same page.</p><p>  “Let us go in first. Don’t want you two to get interrogated as soon as we show up,” Jack reasoned as Toby, still slow from the wound to his side, lifted a panel and pressed his thumb to the screen. The click of the lock prompted them to open the door and step through. Curt and Owen followed close behind, taking in the surroundings. The house looked nearly the exact same as Curt had seen it just a few days prior, when he and Tatiana had talked about the deeper parts of their lives that ended up strengthening their bond. Seeing her son…or, his son- Fuck, this was all so confusing- here in the same place had him drawing parallels where he’d rather not push them.</p><p>  “Молли? Мы дома! Ты здесь?” Toby called out, the few beats of silence prompting a more apprehensive approach into the house until-<br/>
  <br/>
  “На кухне!” Came a voice in the other room, muffled but loud all the same. The man sent a look to Jack who sighed and walked ahead of the others towards the kitchen.</p><p>  “Hey, Molls!” Curt heard Jack say, still crossing the living room next to Owen. “Long time no see!”</p><p>  As the three men finally stepped through the doorway, Curt took in the sight of Jack hugging a shorter woman, a dead ringer for Tatiana with the red hair and bangs. “Wouldn’t be so long if you two weren’t on an endless marathon of missions all the time.” Christ, she even <em>sounded</em> like Tatiana. No accent, but the tone and pitch were spot on.</p><p>  Toby stepped in front of Curt and Owen, blocking the girl’s view. “Well, with any luck we’re getting closer to taking a long vacation.” </p><p>  “You better be serious. I haven’t left this place in months! It wasn’t so frustrating when Sarah lived here, but all alone it’s- holy shit,” she gasped out, eyes finally landing on the men behind the two she’d been addressing. “Y-You- what-”</p><p>  “I haven’t had the time to catch everyone up to speed,” Toby explained quietly, gently setting a hand on the shocked girl’s back and slowly ushering everyone into the living area before looking in Curt and Owen’s direction. “I suppose you two have some questions.”</p><p>  Curt nearly blew a gasket at the simplistic statement. “You think?” he asked, sarcasm thick as he looked to Owen for a reaction. He still wasn’t looking anywhere near Curt. “How ‘bout we start at the beginning? Who are you, and what happened back at the CHIMERA site?”</p><p>  “Jesus, I get shot <em>and</em> interrogated,” Toby muttered under his breath, opening his mouth to talk until the girl smacked his shoulder.</p><p>  “I told you that timelines are-”</p><p>  “Are fickle things. I know. But Lautley already told them everything. What am I supposed to do? The timeline’s already ruined.”</p><p>  With a sigh, she rolled her eyes, muttering something in Russian before staring Curt and Owen in the eyes. “Toby’s your son.”</p><p>  Owen crossed his arms. “Yeah, we got that.”</p><p>  “Way to be forward with it,” Toby grumbled. “You say that like they’re not your parents too, Molly.”</p><p>  “They’re not.”</p><p>  More information was hitting Curt like slap in the face he was so damn sick of being out of the loop. “What the <em>fuck</em> is going on?”</p><p>  Jack plopped onto the couch, clearly done with being an innocent bystander as he rolled his eyes at his partner’s inability to be anything other than vague. “This is Molly. Toby’s younger sister and your daughter.”</p><p>  “Wrong,” Molly muttered in response, but didn’t look anywhere near Owen or Curt. </p><p>  “As I was saying,” Jack started pointedly, “Curt, Owen, from what I’ve been told, at some point in the late seventies you two had discussed kids. Curt’s mom was getting older, wanted to see him start a family. She never…uh, she didn’t know about you. Nobody did. Except Tatiana. So, there came to be an agreement. She’d carry your kid, have her name on the birth certificate as mother, but after that, the baby would be yours. So, Toby was born in 1980, Owen got sole custody. Biologically, he’s Curt’s son though.”</p><p>  “Wait, wait,” Curt cut Jack off, shaking his head. “How is he legally Owen’s but biologically mine?”</p><p>  Toby sighed and took a seat next to Jack. “It was a contingency plan. Everything was a contingency plan. You were both well aware of your occupational hazards. If something happened to Curt, I’d still stay with Owen without issue. Vice versa, all it would take was a DNA test to keep me with Curt.” His jaw slammed closed as he looked down at the floor. Owen took a half step forward, but stopped. Curt glanced at him, but didn’t comment.</p><p>  “What about her?” Owen asked, gesturing to Molly. Jack smiled in her direction and held out a hand, which she begrudgingly took and sat on the opposite side of him on the couch. </p><p>  “Same idea. Biologically Curt’s, legally Owen’s.”</p><p>  “I’m my mother’s child.”</p><p>  “See, this is exactly what Aunt Tatia <em>didn’t</em> want,” Toby snapped at her. He paused to take a deep breath as his sister glared at him with a look everyone was certain had the potential to kill. “She was born in ‘86, a few months after you died. Aunt Tatia raised her as her own child. Again, another contingency plan. That was your Plan C. You two wanted us to have normal lives outside of the spy life,” he ended with a sad laugh. “Guess that didn’t pan out.”</p><p>  “Mama was so upset when she found out you’d joined the academy.”</p><p>  “Yeah,” he replied grimly, turning to quickly and flinching at the pain in his side. </p><p>  Molly’s eyebrow raised. “What happened now?”</p><p>  As Toby was about to dismiss his behavior, Jack lifted the hem of his shirt to display the gauze haphazardly patched to his side. “Shot by a CHIMERA pest with bad aim.”</p><p>  Curt and Owen were still stood away from the three on the couch, trying to wrap their heads around all the information that had just been dumped on them. But still, a few things had yet to be addressed.</p><p>  “Who was that guy that you were talking to? Lautley, or something like that?” Owen asked over Molly’s complaining about Toby hiding his injuries, beating Curt to the punch. He was grateful. Asking all these questions were making him lose his mind.</p><p>  There was a beat of silence before Molly shook her head. “We can at least halt an interdimensional glitch if we have a second for you two to process everything. The timeline may be compromised, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it worse. Curt, I’m sure you know your way around. You and Owen can go rest up while I get your idiot son fixed up <em>correctly</em>.” </p><p>  At first, Curt wanted to protest, but Owen didn’t waste a moment to turn and walk out of the room despite having no clue where he was going.</p><p>  It was relieving to know his ex-partner felt the exact same way about the situation as himself.</p><p>~*~</p><p>  Curt had found a photo album in his room.</p><p>  It wasn’t his room anymore, now decorated as a guest bedroom, but he had a feeling if he asked Toby he’d find all his old items stored in the attic. But he took comfort in at least the similarity of the home he visited his mother in. Looking through the shelf after a failed attempt at resting without question after question piling up and making him freak out, his eyes caught a green plastic covered binder with the label faded but still easy to read.</p><p>  <strong>Toby Michael Carvour, ‘80 - ‘85</strong></p><p>  Curt couldn’t stop himself from pulling the book off the shelf and walking back to the bed. He carefully opened the cover, and immediately discovered he did not have the emotional capacity to handle it.</p><p>  The first photo was of Tatiana, evidently pregnant next to a smiling and clearly older version of himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked so genuinely happy. He almost thought he never would again.</p><p>  His eyes darted to the next picture, one of Owen in the kitchen laughing with Tatiana. It looked like the same day, based on the outfits. Owen’s smile warmed his heart. He’d missed it so much. All he’d gotten from the man since his reappearance had been cold stares and sneers and pretentious smirks. The warmth from the photo was familiar and also all too foreign.</p><p>  And finally, the photos he’d been dreading appeared on the next page.</p><p>  And snapped his heart into a million pieces.</p><p>  It was a normal picture from any other standpoint, grainy and in dim light. A photo of Curt, smiling at a small baby he cradled in his arms.</p><p>  A photo right next to it of Owen doing the same, with the same loving smile.</p><p>  Turn the page, more blurs of a cute baby and flurries of smiles.</p><p>  Owen holding a toddler’s hands as he presumably took his first steps.</p><p>  Birthday cake covering a smiling little face as Curt and Owen stood by with shared grins.</p><p>  The last page only had one picture. It was a candid photo he assumed taken by Tatiana, the image showing Curt and Owen hugging Toby close together, a backpack hanging loosely off his back. This was the only one to have a caption, written carefully in Owen’s legible writing:</p><p>  <em>Toby’s first day of Kindergarten. 08-28-85. We know you will grow to be the best of us.</em></p><p>  “I spent a long time trying to figure out what he meant by that.”</p><p>  Curt’s eyes darted up from the book to Toby standing in the doorway, now in a different shirt and looking far more relaxed than he’d seen him before. “What do you mean?”</p><p>  “The caption. I wondered what ‘the best of us’ meant for years. Aunt Tatia was sure to tell me he didn’t mean I was meant to join the Secret Service, but I suppose I never believed her,” he answered with a sigh. “Look, Curt, I…I don’t expect you or Owen to be on board with all of this right away. I get it must be jarring to hear a man you thought was dead a week ago who tried to kill you ended up being a man you had children with. My parents died in 1985. Sure, you might be the same people generally speaking, but you’re not my dads. Not yet, at least.”</p><p>  Curt wasn’t entirely sure if that help ease his worries or made them worse. But the book had one question in particular eating at him. “And Molly…what happened to Tatiana?”</p><p>  Toby winced at the question, but maintained his composure. “She lived a long life. Four years ago, she got sick and just couldn’t seem to shake it.” He crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to Curt. “As for Molly…I think she resents that I have memories of you two, even if they’re few and far between. She never got to know you. The only thing she got was her name. You chose my first name, Owen chose my middle. Opposites for her. Thankfully, you two had hers picked out before you left. Aunt Tatia had told me when I moved in with her that she didn’t want me to call her Mom if I didn’t want to. As for Molly, she <em>only</em> called her Mama. She refuses to accept you as her parents. Hell, sometimes she calls me her adopted brother just to get on my nerves.”</p><p>  “Sounds frustrating…but I guess I can’t blame her. We weren’t there for her.” Curt answered slowly, looking away and setting the photo album aside.  “I just can’t see how I can…I mean, Owen hates me. How do we fix everything, put all that happened behind us? How did we turn out to be the guys in those pictures?”</p><p>  A soft smile fell on Toby’s face. “That, I cannot tell you. I don’t know much about the things that transpired before I was born. But, what I can tell you…is you figure it out. If you didn’t, Molly and I wouldn’t be here.”</p><p>  With a blood-curdling scream from Molly, Curt and Toby launched up from the bed and shot out of the room, Owen not far behind as they got to the living room.</p><p>  “What’s going on?!” Toby yelled over the screaming, watching Jack help Molly up from the couch.</p><p>  And, for a brief moment, the girl disappeared, and reappeared in the blink of an eye. “I’m lapsing, you fucking moron! I to-” She popped away again, and stumbled forward. “-old you timelines were fickle!”</p><p>  “Lapsing? What is that?” Owen asked, terror evident in his voice.</p><p>  “It means something changed in the past, and now the present is catching up…fuck!” Toby swore, jumping over to Molly and reaching for her only to phase out and back in. “It has to be because we said too much.”</p><p>  “Oh, you think?!” Molly yelled sarcastically, groaning in pain until suddenly, it stopped. She stood there catching her breath, holding’ Jack and Toby’s shaking hands in her own as Curt and Owen just looked on like the horrified bystanders they were. But they knew that, unfortunately, they were much more than bystanders in this situation. “Okay, I think it’s stopped…for now.”</p><p>  Toby let out a relieved breath. “How long do you think until the next one?”</p><p>  “I can’t be sure. With as much information, with as conflicted as they are…”</p><p>  “I feel like I’m going in circles every time I say this, but what the hell is going on?” Curt asked, Owen placing a hand on his shoulder. Finally, acknowledgment after all this time.</p><p>  “Something changed…I think we changed things, with the way we are now.”</p><p>  “What do you mean?”</p><p>  “If you two don’t get together, we don’t exist, Curt.” Toby was simple with his words, but the weight of it had Curt reeling. “We’ve got to do this. We can get you two to a jump point, but not until we finish what you started.”</p><p>  “Wait- Tobe, no you’re not serious,” Jack said apprehensively, only to grow more shocked by his partner's nod of confirmation.</p><p>  “We’re taking down CHIMERA. Tonight.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter ended up so janky I'm sorry</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me for updates!</p><p>Twitter: @everstringbean<br/>Tumblr: @evergreenstringbean or @spotlightonmringenue<br/>Instagram: @evergreenstringbean or @spotlightonmringenue</p></blockquote></div></div>
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